


Sit and Lay Down On My Clothes

by Captain_Aesthetics



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Cottagecore, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Spoilers Through Episode 160, mentions of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25021255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Aesthetics/pseuds/Captain_Aesthetics
Summary: Jon and Martin navigate their way through life in a small cabin. They're in love but that doesn't make things easy.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 6
Kudos: 96





	Sit and Lay Down On My Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> The fic opens with a statement featuring The Flesh and eating humans. It's not that detailed (less gory than some podcast episodes by several orders of magnitude) but I get it might be off-putting to some. If that's not your thing, skip the italics and you'll be safe, the rest is pure fluff. If you're ok with it, read and guess what other fandom I'm in, just guess.
> 
> Title is opening lyric from "[You Instead](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zbhIMAflggg)" by San Scout which would be a great song to listen to while reading.

> _There is a table set for three. Dinner is not yet served, but it is there. It knows. It knows it's about to become meat. There is nothing it can do now. What it doesn't expect, is to be served a meal itself. Round and round, the cycle of carving and eating, over and over again. And the gourmand, he watches it all happen, smile spreading across the lips that will soon take part in the feast he has so lovingly prepared._
> 
> _Statement ends._
> 
> _[a long pause, The Archivist can be heard catching his breath]_
> 
> _I wonder how the Flesh feels about this one. It seems like a natural conclusion of the jump from animal to human. Hardly the first cannibalism story we've had but the first self-cannibalization I've come across. I truly hope it stays that way, ah-_
> 
> _[tape recorder shuts off]_

Jon ends his remarks quickly as he sees Martin coming up the lane. He's hugging himself as he walks which is how Jon notices that it's drizzling out. His chair scrapes loudly as he gets up to get the kettle started.

Martin takes in the state of things once he's inside. The files and tapes strewn across the table. Jon still fussing with the stove. 

"Did I give you enough time to read the statement?"

"I was finishing up when I saw you return."

"If you need more time-"

"No! No. No sense in dwelling on it any further. The Flesh statements are-"

"You really don't have to explain."

"Right. Also it's raining out, you should go change." 

"Into what?" Martin says, a note of peevishness creeping into his voice. That is how Jon remembers they'd done laundry that day and all of the clothes they aren't wearing are hanging out to dry on the line. 

"Oh. Oh no Martin I'm sorry." 

"It's alright, I know how you get when you're in your... your trance. I should have come back when I saw the sky change."

"It's still only drizzling, maybe some of it can be salvaged. You go shower and I'll grab what I can." 

"I can help."

"You're already sodden, go warm up," Jon says just before ducking outside to collect their clothes. They are too wet to wear but he can arrange them around the cabin to dry inside. They didn't have time to pack much anyway. By the time he's back in the cabin the kettle is whistling and the shower is running. Jon dumps the clothes in a pile to turn off the gas stove and pour water over two teabags. He places them on the table to steep and cleans up the remains of his statement, then remembers the clothes pile. He arranges their things over chair backs and radiators, taking care to put their more private items in places of less prominence. 

When he’s done he takes a sip from one of the mugs, wincing at the bitter taste. He thinks about tossing it out and starting over but he hears the shower turn off. He’s made an affront to tea but it is warm, which is something. He brings the mugs to the bedroom and stops in the doorway. They'd washed their towels a few days before so Martin isn’t completely nude. He stands in the center of the room, running one hand through his hair, the other hand grasping the towel around his waist to hold it closed. It is the least Jon’s ever seen Martin wear, after the time he'd run into him in the archives in his t-shirt and boxers. He hadn't really been looking then. Hadn't been used to the scent of him or gotten used to how he felt curled up behind him on a small bed, not touching, each trying to make himself as small as possible. Martin slept on his side with his hands clasped to his chest and his eyes closed tight, as if in prayer. Jon saw it when he woke in the night and couldn't get back to sleep right away, rolling over as quietly and unobtrusively as possible. He thought about how if Martin relaxed his arms just a little Jon might fit between them and his body, might be enveloped by him. Might be able to sleep through the night. 

Martin is fastidious about changing alone, waiting until Jon leaves the room, bringing his clothes into the bathroom with him when he showers. He looks at a loss even now, adrift in the bedroom alone, not noticing Jon there. Jon stays quiet as he looks. Martin is solid and soft and has freckles all over. He looks climbable, like a couch and Jon is a sweater that has come in from the rain to lay out across him. 

"See any cows this time?" Jon says and Martin jumps a mile. Jon jumps too and some of the tea sloshes and he rights himself and looks up just in time to catch a glimpse of Martin pulling the towel back around his waist. Jon goes over to hand him his tea. Martin is very deliberate about taking it, one hand firm on his towel. He's blushing and the rest of his skin is flushed too. Jon touches his skin with the back of his hand. He's still cold. "Get under the covers?" Jon suggests and Martin's eyebrows skyrocket. "To warm up."

"Oh yes. Good idea." He sits on the edge of the bed and looks confused when Jon doesn't leave. He takes a sip of tea, as if that is what Jon is waiting for, to see him take the offering. Martin tries to hide his wince. 

"I'm sorry, I think I let it steep too long."

"It's fine," Martin says, sounding tired.

"What are you waiting for?"

"What are YOU waiting for?"

"For you to budge over mostly."

"Why?"

"I'm still dry." 

"But your clothes..."

"Oh right." Jon pulls his shirt off. When his head emerges he sees Martin's eyes are huge. 

"You don't have to... if you just feel bad because of the laundry or whatever."

"Oh budge over!"

Martin very deliberately pulls back the covers and slides under. He holds himself very rigid, arms clasped in front of him again, but he isn't shy about looking while Jon strips down to his briefs. Jon climbs in next to him and pushes Martin's arms open like a half-open door, settling himself next to Martin. He's not actually that cold but it's too late now. Given the opportunity Martin wraps his arms around Jon and Jon hooks a leg over his hip so they're molded together. Martin moves onto his back, taking Jon with him so he's splayed out on top of him. He can hear and feel Martin's heart thudding under his ear. 

"You didn't answer my question."

"Hmm?"

"About the cows."

He feels Martin laugh beneath him. It ripples through his body too and Martin's hands hold him tighter. His palms slide up his shoulder blades and press down to keep him close. They stay there as the rain lets up and the sky lightens, and on until night falls and the sky begins to darken again.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Jon's stomach is the first to rumble, they have to get up to eat something. Jon goes to the stove, he's a better hand at food than tea. He's used to making meals for himself, whereas Martin had always been around to make the tea.

Martin stands at the center of the cabin, looking at their clothes spread around every surface. It looks like Jon packed away all his archival material. It might have been to make room for their drying trousers on the table but it's a nice touch anyway. He collects the socks from the radiator which are completely dry now and some of his boxer shorts as well. Their shirts are a bit damp so this will have to do. Better than just the towel. The ones Daisy kept for her safehouse are hardly substantial. 

They eat sitting on the floor across from each other and Martin has a sinking feeling they will pretend like whatever happened never happened and he'll go back to shrinking into his corner of the bed. When they were lying together he allowed himself to think about what it would be like if they could sleep like that, every night. He's kicking himself for not taking full advantage of the opportunity, not in any creepy way but he barely even touched Jon. A weird thing to say when Jon was lying on top of him for hours but Martin's used to sorting things by senses. He hasn't filed away how Jon's shoulders feel under his palms, or exactly where their hips meet, or how Jon's breath feels against his neck. He didn't even touch his hair!

Jon showers before bed, leaving Martin there alone, still wondering, until Jon returns from the bathroom. He's using his towel to dry himself not cover himself. Martin can at least look, take in what his hands cannot. That was always his problem while working at the archives. He was meant to collect when what he wanted to do was soothe. He cannot study Jon and hold him. 

Jon drapes his towel over a chair and gets into bed. He burrows against Martin, insistent like a cat, until Martin accommodates him. It's no hardship, when Jon wants his arm for a pillow and his body for a blanket. 

It looks like Jon is settling down to sleep and not another word needs to be said. It also looks like his hair, extremely long now, is trapped against Martin’s arm. Martin takes it upon himself to gently extract it and detangle it with his fingers. As he works Jon slowly opens his eyes. Martin is concentrating on his work, not meeting the eyes he feels watching him. Eventually Jon lifts his head and Martin sweeps all his hair away, across his other shoulder, catching one last touch between his fingers. It’s still wet and feels like silk. 

With great force of will he meets Jon’s eyes. He has no expression on his face. Martin wonders if he’s trying to remain neutral or if he is warring to keep the Eye at bay. To keep something just for them. Maybe that’s hubris. Jon is the Eye. 

That makes him bold. He loves Jon, not the entity he serves. Maybe Jon died, maybe he’s just a vessel now, but Martin loves the vessel and wants to show it. He spreads his fingers across Jon’s chest and slides. 

“Are you with me?” he asks, afraid the Eye will push Jon to do something he doesn’t want to, just to see how Martin will react. 

“Yes,” Jon says, whisper-soft.

“Tell me when it’s too much.”

“I will.” 

Martin touches his shoulders and neck, hip, pelvis, thigh. He spreads his fingers across the divots of his ribcage and instinctively feels the part that’s wrong. He’s interested in the parts that join, joints and transitions, the space behind his jaw, hairline behind his ear, where his leg feels soft. Through it all Jon sighs and gasps, the reactions of a human body very much present. 

“You’re putting me to sleep,” he murmurs. 

“Good, you should get some sleep.”

“But you-”

Martin waits. “But I what.”

“When will I…?”

“Tomorrow’s another day,” Martin says, blushing at the thought of being laid bare the same way. “And I still have things to try.” He strokes his hair again. He wants to know what it feels like when it’s dry. It’s been long enough parts are dry and bristly, while still damp around the scalp. It’ll be soft by morning, tangled and inviting.

“Are you cataloging me?” Jon says with a smile. “To save for later? That’s smart.”

“Jon.”

“I’ll never leave you on purpose.”

“I know.” The qualifier hangs in the air above them. Martin takes what he can while he can. Jon is pliable and Martin can fit him into the nooks of his body in all the ways he dreamed about, hidden in the spaces between lines of poetry. Jon is desperate for direction and moves easily while they move into a position that’s sustainable, that will last them until morning. 

By the time the sun rises Jon’s hair is dry and so are their clothes. Martin runs his hands over both, and is thankful for the reprieve. They’ll have the same conversation in different words again and again, going around in circles, and might never leave, a blessing and a curse.

**Author's Note:**

> I will stop writing Jonmartin cuddling in the cabin when I am dead and in the ground.


End file.
